Obedience
by Celesma
Summary: We do what we're told.


A/N: Mangaverse. Once again, a story that was meant to be short and got away from me. Contains horror and disturbing themes.

* * *

_"All that is necessary for evil to succeed is that good men do nothing." _– Edmund Burke

_"We do what we're told..." – _Peter Gabriel

* * *

**Obedience**

She'd never really thought about having children.

Even when Rem had been with Alex – for the few most blissful, uncomplicated years of her life – the subject just hadn't come up. There'd been talk of marriage, of course, and the ensuing living arrangements; but for the most part, it seemed the two of them really only existed for each other. In hindsight, she realized that it was because starting a family would mean subjecting their children to the same terrible conditions that they themselves were hoping to escape from one day: a desolate, freezing planet that killed off people by the millions every day. What loving parents would want that for their children? And so they'd said nothing.

But then Alex was gone, and she took that job on the ship, and _they_ came into her life. Which was to say that Alex wasn't _really_ gone, but that his legacy – somehow – lived on in these two precious children. With smiling faces and grasping hands, they sought to understand the reality of a life that Rem had known from long years of acquaintance was brutal, uncompromising, and short. As a result, she personally tasked herself with revealing reality's ugly truths as one would uncover a rare diamond: slowly, only showing one side at a time.

But some truths are arrived at too quickly, and others that are best left buried beneath the sands are exhumed to terrible (and terribly productive) effect.

She's about to find that out today.

Vash and Knives – young as they are – have advanced so rapidly in intelligence that they require regular homeschooling (and in such complex subjects as psychology and astronomy, rather than basic letters and numbers). Rem is only too happy to oblige their near-constant hunger for knowledge, but there are days when the combined duties of maintaining the ship, feeding and caring for the children, _and_ providing a suitable school environment is rather much to bear. Still, it's a duty that she determines to shoulder without complaint – and without help. On this, a morning like any other, she has already made breakfast, triple-checked the ship's trajectory, mopped the halls, assessed the conditions of the cold-sleep chambers, and watered her flowers.

From the kitchen, she can hear the low, excited murmur of the twins discussing something in the next room. Pouring herself a steaming mug of coffee from one of the automated coffee machines, Rem tilts her head to one side to hear better.

"Knives, are you reading ahead again? Can't you at least wait for Rem this time?"

Rem smiles to herself, and in response to Vash's lighthearted admonishment, Knives says defensively: "But I can't help it! Psychology is so _interesting._ I learn so many things about humans this way. I'm more surprised that you aren't doing the same."

"That's because I have the virtue of patience."

"You mean the virtue of being a mama's boy?"

"I am _not_ a mama's boy!"

"It's not even eight o'clock and you two are already arguing," Rem laughs as she enters the room. She sets her coffee cup down on the table and looks over at Knives, who has his nose buried in an old Earth textbook, while Vash sits next to him and rolls his eyes. Even with a limitless supply of digital tools at her fingertips, Rem prefers to use physical materials as much as possible, reasoning that there's simply no substitute for cracking open an old, dusty tome. They have _character._ "What are you reading there, Knives?"

"I'm reading about Stanley Milgram," Knives explains in breathless tones. Even at six months old, his diction and pronunciation are flawless (in notable contrast to Vash, who still stumbles to correctly pronounce any word that looks remotely complicated on paper, with the exception of "doughnuts"); it's but one of the reasons Rem calls him a little professor. "He was an American psychologist who lived in the twentieth century. He conducted a lot of social experiments. It says here that he introduced the small-world phenomenon, but that his most famous experiment – Milgram 18 – was undeniably important to the understanding of the human mind."

"If _I'm_ a mama's boy, then _you're_ a teacher's pet," Vash interjects, trying unsuccessfully to pick up the thread of their previous argument. In response, Knives gives a holier-than-thou huff and flips over to the next page in the book.

Neither one of them notices Rem stiffen and turn pale: the significance of Knives's words suddenly, damnably dawning on her.

_Milgram 18._

_The subject._

_The girl..._

The change in her is as instantaneous as if a spring-loaded trap has been tripped. She doesn't want the children to be learning this. She doesn't want to _teach_ it. But instead of running over and slamming the textbook closed, as her disturbed mind permits, she merely stands there; and Knives is reading on now, in earnest:

"The experiment involved people from all walks of life. Milgram would set one person up to be a teacher, and another to be a learner. The teachers and learners were separated by a wall and couldn't see each other. Rem, this sounds pretty interesting. What were they going to teach the learners?"

So. No way to avoid it, then. Rem pulls out a chair and sits down heavily, her coffee forgotten. Both boys seem puzzled by their guardian's sudden melancholy, but neither questions it. She turns over to the next page in the textbook. With a sigh, she says: "The teachers were told that the experiment would be to test the knowledge of the learners. To do that, they would give a word to the learner and ask them to pair it up with another word. However... there was a penalty if the learner got the word pairs wrong."

"A penalty?" Vash asks. "Like what?"

Rem points to a picture in the book. The picture is a black-and-white photograph depicting a square metal instrument. "This was a box used to administer electrical shocks. The level started at 15 volts. Each time the learner got a question wrong, the teacher would activate the box to give them a shock."

Vash shivers. "I wouldn't want to be a learner if I knew they were gonna shock me," he mutters.

"Well _I_ wouldn't get shocked, 'cause I'd get all the answers right," Knives announces haughtily. "Besides, 15 volts doesn't sound so bad."

Rem shakes her head. They're now coming to the part she's dreading. "15 volts isn't so bad, no. But... well, keep on reading." Knives looks at the passage she's pointing to, then blinks several times as the words on the page sink in. He begins to read in a loud, incredulous voice:

_Teachers were asked to give increasingly severe electric shocks to the learner when questions were answered incorrectly__. Shock levels were labeled up to 450 volts. However, the learner would not withstand the pain of shocks quietly. In response to jolts, the learner would begin to grunt at 75 volts; complain at 120 volts; ask to be released at 150 volts; plead with increasing vigor, next; and let out agonized screams at 285 volts. Eventually, in desperation, the learner would yell loudly and complain of heart pain. At 330 volts, the learner would become completely silent._

"I don't understand," he says after a long, quiet moment. "How could they be getting such severe shocks? That's completely illegal. It violates – "

"The learners weren't _really_ being shocked, dummy," Vash quickly supplies. "How could every learner respond in exactly the same way if they were? They must have been pretending."

"That's right, Vash. The learners were actors," Rem says wearily. "The experiment wasn't to test knowledge at all. It was to test the morality of the teachers. Would they feel cowed by the presence of the scientists who were supervising the experiment, or would they stick to their moral principles and stop as soon as the learner said they were in pain? After the Second World War and the tyranny of the Nazis, that was the question on everyone's minds. That's why this experiment was so important."

"Well obviously no one would have gone all the way through the shocks," Knives says, happy to cling to the life preserver that Vash has tossed him: happy to preserve the beliefs he's held since he was born. "Except for really evil people, I mean."

Rem closes her eyes. "Actually, over half of the teachers administered the full 450 volts."

She doesn't see, but _feels_ Knives's eyes grow wide. "Wh... what?"

"Like I said, the teachers had an experimenter standing watch over them. Every time the teacher wanted to stop the shocks and check on the learner, the experimenter would tell them that they absolutely needed to keep going. Of course, the teachers could have gotten up and left at any time, but they didn't seem to understand that. I mean, it gets more complicated than that, but – that _is_ the heart of the matter, I suppose."

At this, Knives stares at the wall. His expression is not quite _shattered_; but anyone who knew the child well could definitely suss out the appearance of a rather large crack, like that seen on a windshield after it has been struck by a rock. He doesn't say anything.

Rem remembers the words of a wise man just then – _"all parents damage their children; youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers"_ – and realizes with horror that she has just administered her first crack. The anger she feels at herself increases tenfold. Even if it might have only stirred the curiosity of the boys, she still could have just taken away the textbook. Why didn't she just _close_ the damn thing when she had a chance –

"So what does this experiment mean?" Vash asks, trying to fill the void that Knives, the more objective thinker of the pair, has left. "That people are really just looking for any excuse to behave like wolves?"

"That can't be right," Knives says. He definitely looks troubled now; and almost without his knowledge, he begins to worry one fingernail with his teeth.

"I wouldn't say that it's so bad as that," Rem demurs. "Instead of wolves, you could say that people are like – sheep."

The twins stare.

"There were many different social factors that affected people's behavior," Rem explains. "Many people felt obligated to continue the experiment in the interest of science, or because they had entered a contract, even though they didn't want to shock the learner. It also didn't help that scientists are commonly perceived as authority figures, even back then. In the end, most people couldn't make a break with authority. To do so would defy hundreds of years of social evolution."

"You talk as if the situation determined what they did," Knives says angrily. "People aren't robots. They can – well, they can think for _themselves,_ can't they?" This last sentence is not a statement of fact, but a desperate question for which he seeks affirmation.

"Of course they can," Rem says quietly. She runs a hand through Knives's impossibly prickly hair, and the boy seems to soften somewhat. "It's just that many of us would rather do what's easy instead of what's right."

"I guess so," Knives says after a moment, but he speaks in a quiet, defeated voice. Vash remains silent. Rem is dismayed to see that he doesn't look terribly surprised by anything he's learned.

"I'm sorry," Rem says at last. "I think you're both too young to be learning about something like that. Let's just... put it behind us for now."

That seems to put an end to the discussion; and to her eternal gratitude, events continue to transpire as they always had. The children enjoy a recess in the Rec Room, playing games of tag (and occasionally chess) and learning about the artificial ecosystem that had been installed on the ship at least five lifetimes ago. Rem prepares an Indian dish – curry – for them at lunchtime, showing them what spices to use and how to mix together the meat and vegetables. Things seem peaceful. All the while, however, a frown threatens to disturb Knives's heretofore innocent expression: especially when, deep within the ship's bowels, he gazes upon the visages of the sleeping humans.

At bedtime, Rem reads to them: T.H. White's _The Once and Future King._ Normally Knives would be absolutely enthralled by the adventures of King Arthur and the Round Table, and the struggle of Might for Right; but that puzzled, questing look remains in his eyes, and he seems more distracted than anything else. As Rem turns the page, giving each word an audible (but short-lived) existence, she too struggles beneath the weight of despair. After all, if it hadn't been for last year – if it hadn't been for what she did to the girl – _Tessla _–

She manages to get through just one chapter, then closes the book. "I think we'd better stop here," she says, waiting (hopefully) for an objection from Knives. Knives doesn't complain. Saying nothing more, Rem rises, shuts off the light, and goes to her room. An uncharacteristic exhaustion seems to take hold of her as she falls upon her bed without changing her clothes – indeed, without even disturbing the covers – and she finds herself revisiting a memory that she had long tried to put behind her.

* * *

_She opens her eyes and sees white. For a moment she's convinced that she's gone blind from an excess of light, but then she realizes that she's in a room surrounded by white walls. With the easy acceptance that can only take place in a dream, she looks to her right. She is sitting in a chair, next to a table. Rem takes a closer look at the table. There is an impressive-looking box sitting there, with a label that reads SHOCK GENERATOR. A series of buttons adorns one side: each button designates a different level of electric shock. The highest level is 450 volts. Behind that is a heavily tinted glass partition._

_She looks to her left. A man – the experimenter _– _sits in a chair next to her and copies down notes on a clipboard. Despite his sitting position, he cuts a powerful, dominant figure. He is a man who suffers no fools; and looking at him, Rem feels a queer sort of loyalty to him flow through her veins. She manages to look away from him long enough to peer through the dim glass behind the shock generator. She can make out the shape of a girl lying in a bed. The bed itself is mired in a jungle of intravenous tubes and metal contraptions._

_It is in that moment that she finally senses that something is not right. Nevertheless, she complies when the experimenter icily informs her: "The subject has not learned the word pairs correctly. Administer 450 volts."_

_The moment the button is pressed, there is a terrific burst of light from the next room, accompanied by the child's agonized screams. The room is illuminated just long enough for Rem to see that she is covered in bloodied bandages; and beneath one of them, a single eye bulges with terror._

_Rem pauses. She turns to the experimenter for some cue to stop and check on the child, and it's almost as if someone else is in control of her body. Almost. The girl's screams continue to ring in her ears long after the first shock has been administered._

_To her horror, the experimenter remains calm and relaxed. "Please continue," he says, the tone of his voice a study in utter indifference._

_"But, but she's in pain," Rem protests. She is shaking very hard and for whatever reason it is impossible to think clearly. Her own personality – the always-laughing, always-smiling, always-kind Rem Saverem... did that person ever really exist? It seems now that she is merely a lump of clay: one to be molded in the expert hands of the man facing her. "I think we should stop," she adds, in a placating tone that only strengthens these unverbalized musings._

_The experimenter waves his hand. "The experiment requires that you continue. Push the button."_

_**"It seems that you and the esteemed doctor don't understand what Tessla represents. We may never have another chance like this again. If you continue to interfere **_–_** "**_

_"But I don't want to!" Like an animal heedless of the reason for its behavior, she moans: wrings her hands: bubbles with laughter: finally, rises from her chair and paces. "We're hurting her! Can't you see that?"_

_"It is absolutely essential that you continue. Push the button."_

_"Please! It isn't right! Please let's just stop!"_

_**"Think of the things we could discover. Extended longevity for the plants. Extended longevity for our own people. The knowledge to increase brain capacity and physical strength. Ask yourself, Rem: do you really want to get in the way of progress?"**_

_"She's just a little girl! Maybe she isn't human, but she's still a little girl!"_

_"You have no other choice. You must go on. Push the button."_

_**"The subject has no legal rights. You cannot charge us with a crime. Dr. Conrad already recognizes that. He's agreed not to intervene."**_

_The experimenter stares at her and suddenly there isn't an experimenter there anymore. It's a tall (impossibly tall) phantom wearing a surgical mask and a pair of gloves and a very clean, very white, very sharply pressed lab coat._

_**"You will defer to authority on this, Rem. Or you can go back into cold sleep."**_

_A medley of surgical tools suddenly bursts forth from the Authority's fingers, and they fall to the task of lancing the air with clean, methodical stabs. Rem falls back into her chair, cowering. The knives continue to swipe the area around her, seeking a target to impale._

_A single command booms from within the Authority's robes: "PUSH THE BUTTON."_

_She pushes the button. And just as she had feared, there is a response. An inhuman shriek bangs with the force of a hurricane against the glass separating herself from the girl (subject?) (learner?) until it is shattered, and she is forced to face the consequences of her obedience._

_Once she peered through a glass darkly; but now, she sees face to face. The face that she sees now is not really a face at all. Obscene tendrils of smoke curl out of jelly-filled eye sockets; the hair has been reduced to the consistency of spent straw; and bits of burned skin chip off of the skull like nail polish. Rem just knows that if she reached out to touch, her fingers would register the texture of burned cigarettes. Even though the eyes no longer see, they seem to convey hateful reproach as they lock with Rem's own._

_Rem screams._

* * *

Rem comes awake with a start. As if to compound the shock of her dream, one of the twins is there staring at her.

"Rem," he says, his voice lilting with childlike concern, a voice that she cannot yet place. "What happened? You were... moaning, or something. I could hear you from across the hall. And your eyes are all red. Is everything okay?"

Rem blinks – once, twice – as Knives's face finally swims into view, and for one horrible moment she cannot distinguish between him and the image of the dying girl, burned into her retinas like the aftermath of an old-fashioned flash camera. "Knives," she says after a moment, disoriented, "I – "

"You were crying, huh? I guess even adults do that sometimes." As if to prove the point, he wipes her wet cheek with his thumb and sticks it in his mouth. "Hmm," he says agreeably. "Salty."

"About that..." And Rem's voice trails off, because she doesn't know what to say.

"Were you dreaming about Alex?"

"No," she says, happy to supply an honest answer. Then, hoping to change the subject, she adds suspiciously: "What are you doing awake right now, anyway? There's no way a little moaning would have woken you up."

Knives sets his eyes to the floor, a little guiltily. "Well, I was up all night, just thinking..."

"Oh, dear. You really _were_ too young to learn about something like that."

"No!" Knives quickly amends. Then, more calmly: "No, it's okay, Rem. Because I get it now."

"Get what?"

"Humans may get scared, or confused, or lose their way. But when that happens, they always have a chance to learn from their mistakes, and to make sure they never repeat them."

Rem stares at him, awed. "That's a very mature conclusion, Knives. Did you come up with that on your own?"

"Well, almost," Knives says, his hand seeking the back of his neck in an unconsciously sheepish gesture. "I did a little more reading about the experiment. Most people were happy to have participated in it – even the obedient ones. They said that it taught them to think for themselves and not blindly obey authority. That tells me that there's hope for people. That I can keep on believing in them."

Rem smiles. "Always a positive thinker."

"Yep!" For a moment Knives's expression is bright and guileless, and then it seems to grow pensive. "...Um, so why were you crying, Rem?"

"Oh... just a nightmare."

"Can I do anything for you?"

"No... I'll be fine."

Knives pops his thumb back into his mouth, innocently satisfied with her response. "You know, it's too bad that only sad or scary things make people cry. Your tears are kind of tasty."

Rem chuckles. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, Knives."

"Hey! I'm not – "

"And that's why I love you!"

"I love you too. And, well, you know..."

"What?"

"I can be positive because I know that people like you exist. I know that you would never do anything to hurt anyone else."

A pause.

"Hey, Rem... you're crying again. Did I say something – ?"

"No, Knives," Rem says, and in an attempt to project casualness she transfers some of the tears clinging to her eyes onto Knives's fingers. "Here. Knock yourself out."

"You're making fun of me again," Knives observes without hostility. He contentedly sucks his fingers. He moves as if to turn away; but after a moment, he thinks better of it and crawls underneath the covers with Rem, who squeaks in surprise.

"Will Vash be all right by himself?"

"I think he'll live for one night. At the very least, he knows where to find me. Besides, you're always there for me when I'm having a nightmare. I'm just returning the favor."

Rem giggles. "You talk like that, but what you're really saying is you want to cuddle."

"Rem!" Knives is offended. "I'm not a baby."

"Wasn't too long ago that you were wetting the bed..."

"Oh, just go to sleep!"

Still giggling softly, Rem musses Knives's hair and pulls him close to her. Within minutes Knives is snoring softly, reassured by the warm presence of his guardian; but Rem remains awake, clinging to the boy's body as though it is her salvation. She attempts to silence the sobs that twist up her throat, to stifle the deluge of tears that refuses to cease. While she will never repeat the mistakes of her past, neither can she take them back. They are scars that she will carry to her grave.

Tomorrow she will bring more flowers.

* * *

Over a hundred and fifty years later, Millions Knives stands in the ruins of a building that he himself destroyed: a former den of sex slaves. All that remains is a hole in the ground, heavily populated with the severed bodies of rapists, degenerates, and pigs. A touch of ritual permeates his cold, cruel movements as he manipulates the butcher's knife that lay open their true condition.

"Only a superior breed deserves the right to exert authority," Knives says, more to himself than to the naked human who cowers beneath the righteousness of his blade. "Those below him are his sheep. I have branded you with my mark, and have given you your name. And now I say this to you, my sheep – _obey me!"_

The blade relaxes just an inch: enough for the man known as Legato Bluesummers to raise his head and gaze into the eyes of his Authority with unbridled devotion.

"Yes, Master. To the end of my days, I am your obedient servant."

_The End_

* * *

A/N: Yes, the Milgram experiment is an actual thing (which you probably remember if you ever took a social psychology course, or read Milgram's book _Obedience to Authority._ The results of that experiment are discussed in-depth in that book, and while its implications for human behavior scare the stuffing out of me, it's still highly recommended reading). In Rem's dream, the experimenter's verbal prods are lifted verbatim from the actual prompts that were used in the original experiment to discourage the teachers from rebelling; and the excerpt from the textbook comes straight from an article by Gregorio Billikopf Encina with the University of California (I can't directly link here, but you can easily find it through Google).

So... thoughts? This was a highly experimental (see what I did there) and highly weird piece for me to write. I always had to wonder how such a strong-willed woman like Rem was unable to save Tessla. The manga doesn't show us anything about what happened when Rem and Conrad opposed the experiments, so I surmised that perhaps an element of social conditioning was at play.


End file.
